


Emotional closeness or something of the sort

by 37h4n0l



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gay Sex, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/pseuds/37h4n0l
Summary: "Tobi doesn't like mirrors."





	Emotional closeness or something of the sort

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is me stuck with a ship since like 4-5 years ago. If I didn't have to play it cool with summaries, I would've just summed it up in 'that escalated quickly' because it just went from zero to fifty somewhere halfway. I'm not even sure what this is. I'm not sure what I write 90% of the time.

Deidara knows.

 

He’s known for some time, because despite being young, stubborn and also aware of these characteristics, he’s not an idiot. Maybe not the smartest nin out there either, he has to admit - if he were, he would’ve noticed right away, the little inadvertent shifts, the unaware moments. Those two or three seconds when Tobi isn’t concentrated on pestering him and his stance looks more calm, composed and stable. It’s an entirely different person, hints of professionalism that are let slip unprofessionally. Deidara isn’t an idiot, but this man surely is taking him for one. 

 

First off, there has to be a reason why he wears a mask, that’s the first thing Deidara can remember noticing. So he tries and tries to observe, he tricks Tobi into engaging in activities that would require him to take it off, but there’s always an excuse. It becomes an obsession almost to the point of being worth losing sleep over. Then there’s the fact that Tobi appears to be well-trained under all the black layers and it’s something Deidara finds both irritating and oddly intriguing. Not that he hasn’t seen fighters with a nice physique before; if there’s something attractive about it, it’s the secrecy of it and how absurd it is to have that body attached to that kind of personality. A personality which is probably fake - Deidara knows.

 

It’s not an irrelevant matter, in fact, it’s anything but irrelevant, he thinks during one of their trips. Five minutes earlier, he’s threatened Tobi in order to shut him up, but he seems to be lacking the energy to be annoying anyway. It’s not irrelevant because they’re partners. Deidara values cooperation, as he valued the duo he formed with Sasori in the past - until that asshole decided to die, disproving everything he’s ever stood for regarding art. And now he’s doomed to this, to some mystery-fuckwit who refuses to even show him his face, let alone make any kind of useful contribution to a fight. It’s annoying and exasperating. 

 

Soon, he figures he might have to try some kind of feigned emotional interest. Tobi may or may not work like a child inside that head of his, but he sure as hell acts like it and seems determined to keep up said act. Better play along at this rate. And play along he does, they stop at the next village and Deidara suggests that they take a look around the summer fair. Tobi’s posture would suggest that he’s giving him a weird look under the mask.

 

“Senpai?”

 

“What?” 

 

“I thought we didn’t have time to waste…?”

 

“I feel like getting time off. Do you have a problem with this too?”

 

Tobi shuts up quickly and diverts his attention towards the various goods purchasable at the stands. There’s almost anything imaginable, including the oddest things. Besides the usual food and souvenir sellers, there are books, antique objects, technique scrolls (probably either scams or very badly written) - and numerous others. Tobi scurries through the stands, eyes glistening in wonder - well, maybe, who even knows what his eyes look like. Deidara finds himself musing again and chases away the topic quickly, being that keeping track of Tobi in these situations is a task that requires focus. 

 

“There’s lots of food, senpai… Tobi can’t choose…” he mewls, turning back and forth between the caramellized apple stand and the one with an endless variety of different mochi. 

 

“Who said I’d buy you food?”

 

He gasps. “You wouldn’t?”

 

Deidara rolls his eyes and ends up with both an apple and a 4-piece package of mochi. He doesn’t even bother spying on Tobi as he eats; he knows he’ll find a way to do so without taking off that damn thing anyway, it’s all futile. As his partner sticks the apple underneath, approximately where his mouth would be, he gestures towards it though.

 

“Let me have half of that, would ya.”

 

“Anything for senpai~”

 

And with that, he quickly bites off half an apple in one go and shoves the rest at Deidara, close to hitting him in the face. 

 

“Control your damn movements a little. Are you or are you not a ninja?”

 

“Tobi is a rookie” Tobi replies as he takes out one of the rice pastries and observes his surroundings curiously.

 

“Why are you paired up with me then?”

 

“Do you hate me, senpai?”

 

A sigh. Emotional approach, Deidara has to remind himself. He doesn’t reply. Mostly because he has no reason to hate Tobi himself in the end, it’s just annoyance, albeit a lot of it. 

 

There’s a mask stand, as in every fair in the country, probably. It’s just what Deidara was waiting for. He stops for a while to look at them - there’s something aesthetically appealing about them, they’re finely made. It’s far from his concept of ‘art’, but he has always had respect for good handiwork of whichever kind. Some of them depict animals or what appear to be demons, others are more simple and stylized. The artist who made them must’ve been a skilled one. He turns around and sees Tobi a few feet from him - he also appears to be in thought. Deidara smirks.

 

“Don’t you think it’s time to switch to a different mask?”

 

“Oh, these look good…” 

 

It’s one of those moments. Deidara tries to keep his expression from giving away the surprise too much. Tobi’s voice is  _ not quite as high-pitched _ , more contemplative. It makes him wonder if he could look up to him if he knew his real personality and abilities. The idea frightens Deidara but also fascinates him. Then he has to scold himself for trying to read too much into the other. What are the odds?

 

“Tobi prefers this one, though! It’s important to him.” He’s back to his usual demeanor. 

 

“You should still try on the others, they have a mirror as well.”

 

“Tobi doesn’t like mirrors.”

 

It’s a comment that tries to come off as spontaneous and half-blends with the background noise due to the quiet tone, but Deidara could swear he heard something tragic in it. His brain births at least twenty new theories on how and why Tobi would dislike his own appearance. 

 

‘Emotional closeness’ can mean a lot of things and none of them are easy. Especially not for Deidara, a kid grown up in war and raised by his own survival instinct, someone with a character centered around self-improvement and a personal philosophy, not feelings. Those have been pushed aside and forgotten long ago. He used to be attached to Sasori, maybe. A professional bond, but a bond nonetheless. Since that isn’t something he can establish with Tobi, he has to wander into unknown territories. The curiosity is stronger though, curiosity and the rage of being played around with, those things he can’t help whenever he fixates that orange piece of carved wood and all that stares back at him from the hole is darkness. 

 

He tries to talk to him, to get personal information out of him. But Tobi is cryptic; it’s his own brand of having a way with words. He manages to circumnavigate the issue and divert the topic, only to come back to either praising Deidara or talking about his own likes and dislikes in food. He avoids questions about his looks like the plague, to the other’s disappointment. It’s then that Deidara gets desperate, enough to move into the territory of physicality; it’s pats on Tobi’s back in the beginning, hands on his shoulder during a serious phrase, ruffling of his hair. 

 

His reaction seems to be simply pulling away. And the more it goes on, the more irritated Deidara gets before finally snapping and slamming his partner against the wall of the cheap inn they’re staying in, securing his limbs professionally and disregarding the squeals that sound more and more fake by the day. He’s leaning close to Tobi’s face, the barrier of the mask between them, pure anger radiating from him. He looks for an excuse to pick a fight despite not having one.

 

“What did Tobi do, senpai?”

 

“I’m sick of your shit.”

 

Tobi seems speechless and all of his body says ‘bewildered’, despite his face not being visible.

 

“I want to know who you are, so stop playing games. We are partners.”

 

“Tobi isn’t sure what that means.” 

 

Deidara feels like he’s holding back a scream of frustration.

 

“Take off your mask.”

 

There are a few seconds of silence, the bartender raises his eyebrows from behind the counter. The few other people drinking there aren’t paying attention, but silence still looms in the air threateningly, like the burnt smell of a nearby forest fire.

 

“This is really funny,” Tobi comments after a while, voice shifting towards seriousness ironically, “just how far is senpai willing to go for this?”

 

“As far as necessary for me to find out, I’m not giving up anymore, you little shit.” Deidara leans a little closer, still. 

 

“So senpai would do anything?”

 

“You heard me right.”

 

“Can Tobi ask  _ why _ ?”

 

“Because we’re partners.”

 

*

 

Maybe ‘emotional closeness’ was not the right way to phrase it, after all, not when Deidara is uncomfortably pushed against the mattress as the man he used to call ‘Tobi’ enters him from behind, again and again, in rough and measured movements. Maybe he bit off more than he could chew. But he was the one doing the biting nonetheless, and whether this is a good or bad result is only for him to decide. The other hisses and grunts with the next thrust. Deidara holds back his voice. 

 

He could choose to get mad because of the sharingan, keep asking questions, put up a fight and work against the undeniable attraction that tagged along in his little journey of exploring Tobi. He was right, it was a persona - a persona he cared for, surprisingly, enough for him to even feel a shred of compassion towards whoever invented it and set it up. When one appreciates the mask, they must appreciate the one who created it as well. 

 

And there’s something sincerely hurt in all of this person’s gestures, the way he has earlier asked for reassurance that this wasn’t going to be long-term, with Deidara then replying that he’s always disliked permanence anyway. He’s been through a lot, clearly. As have most shinobi these days. The way he lets out his anger while fucking Deidara into the miserable futon of their shared room has something hurt in it too. But Deidara wants all of it, all of the information he missed out on, the sharp force of Tobi’s hand in his hair and his cock sheathed inside him.  _ This isn’t long-term _ , so he’d better take it in. Who knows what his partner is planning to do after this, if they can go back to the way it was before. That wasn’t long-term either.

 

“I can’t believe I’m-” Tobi groans in the middle of the sentence. “-doing this. I don’t know anymore.”

 

Deidara tries to come up with a reply that isn’t bickering, but the pleasure, Tobi hitting his best spot, the hands gripping his hips, his desperate need to come are enough to distract him. All he reacts with is a sequence of rather humiliating sounds bursting out from his throat involuntarily.

 

Tobi leans down, wraps his arms around him as he maintains the rhythm of his thrusts and goes even deeper, he could fool him into thinking there’s  _ attachment _ where it shouldn’t be. It feels good that he feigns it, Deidara can forget about the power unbalance for a moment.

 

“But you really look good like this,” Tobi rambles, mind lost in the haze, “I don’t regret it.”

 

“Fuck, just…-” the other doesn’t even know what instruction he wants to issue this time.

 

“I don’t regret it” he repeats right before coming; he didn’t ask Deidara whether he could. 

 

Tobi pulls away awkwardly, and before the situation could grown into an uncomfortable one, his partner gets up with an irritated scowl to clean up the mess, mismatched eyes fixated on him. He sits down when he’s done, turns towards the other man, tries to memorize the facial features.

 

“So this is what you were trying to hide?” 

 

“Would you walk around with this?” It’s accompanied by a bitter, ironic chuckle.

 

“It doesn’t-” Deidara pauses, not sure how to phrase it. “-look bad. If you looked into a mirror for once, you’d know.”

 

Tobi sighs and proceeds to clothe himself again, hiding those well-protected features bit by bit and finishing by placing the mask back on, no matter how uncomfortable it was probably going to be for sleeping. 

 

“I don’t like mirrors” he reacts, in the end, quietly.

And the realization has yet to hit Deidara as he lies next to him, eyes wide open from the insomnia induced by the eventfulness of the evening, moonlight seeping through the rice paper on the windows - the realization that Tobi has been reserved, mature and sexually appealing, that he has goddamn scars all over him and they’re there for a reason, that he’ll never be able to ask more questions about it  _ because it’s not long-term _ , and that he fucking hates himself for briefly wishing it were. The satisfaction from having his theory confirmed is gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the sour itch of unanswered questions. 

 

Deidara knows many things now, but there’s so, so much more that he doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone, please look at SweetAlphaChild's addition to the fic in the comments because it's amazing.


End file.
